


The Little Fish

by poisoned_mackerel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Castration, Chastity Device, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Harems, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Mindfuck, Multi, Prostitution, Rape, Spanking, Temple, Torture, or something like that, sleeping in a box
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-09-26 16:03:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20392390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisoned_mackerel/pseuds/poisoned_mackerel
Summary: He doesn't know his name but he knows that he lives to please Temin.





	1. Boy 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> This is a dark one-shot set in a weird world that decided to become a multi-chaptered fic.
> 
> Hope you have a nice read!

He still can’t get used to being spanked regularly.  
But Temin says it’s what’s supposed to happen so he endures. Today, he’s on Temin’s bed, again. His feet are bound to the heavy metallic bedframe – and he shuffles them awkwardly all the time, unable to lie still under the onslaught of spanks. Temin scolds him for being loud, but to him, it sounds like Temin enjoys both his whining and having a reason to add more strokes. So he doesn’t feel too bad about not trying too hard to stop the noises – it’s impossible, for one, and he lives to please Temin, two.

He hasn’t seen himself in a mirror for the longest time – he remembers watching his own reflection in a pond as a kid – he had chestnut, curly hair and a plump nose.  
Temin usually shows him his butt after the spankings in a small mirror, though – red, swollen and starting to bruise. That’s the only image of himself he has.

He spends his days running and doing sit-ups – a good boy has to be slim and have a round butt. He doesn’t have any obligations other than to follow his regimen and endure the discipline Temin dishes out to him every few days.

He can’t remember his name. Temin calls him “boy”.

He is one among many. There must be a hundred other boys staying in the same big halls with high ceilings as him. They are allowed to speak to each other during meal and bath times, say “goodnight” and “good morning” to each other every day. These moments are the highlights of the days not filled with service to Temin for him.

All boys sleep in a big hall full of standard individual boxes. Each box is closed off from all sides – the large ventilation holes are the only thing keeping the boys from going mad from being kept in the dark confined spaces. Their hands are bound to the side panels inside the boxes so that they couldn’t touch their dicks if they tried. They would never dare but it’s a necessary measure nevertheless because boys can’t be trusted.

Temin showed him the garden once – there were other, previously unseen boys, a lot of them. They looked older. They all watched him with a sort of quiet sadness he couldn’t place – and so he was relieved when Temin sent him back to the usual rooms he occupies.

There are rules for this place.  
All boys have different tasks – the more often Temin comes to them, the easier their task.  
Some boys meet with him only once a year – and it’s a horror every single time. It’s a twisted kind of mercy, to give so much time to lick the wounds that can’t be healed anyway.

Some boys here wear shrewd metallic contraptions around their genitals – or even full chastity belts. It looks inconvenient. He thinks that they may have touched their cocks despite the clear message that they can’t. It only makes him more willing to stay obedient.

Temin said that He is pleased with his boy exactly two times: when he didn’t cry out during a caning, as requested, and when he told Temin that He is beautiful. The last one got him punished by the overseer later, but it was worth the genuine smile on Temin’s face. Maybe, he doesn’t have the right to say it aloud, to tell such a simple, naïve thing to a God, but if no one is allowed to say the truth, how will Temin know that He is so genuinely worshipped?

He thinks that he will have to wait some more time before he compliments Temin again. But he will do it, that’s for certain.

Because his love for Temin is the only things that matters in his life.


	2. Boy 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Dilan, an overseer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers!
> 
> The horrors go on!

His ass looks ripe, thinks Dilan. Ripe and almost ready to burst, laughs Dilan to himself watching the boy’s skin turn more violet and blue than red in a few places with the next blows.

That’s what Temin requested – a boy, whose ass is so welted and bruised that every touch to it, let alone a spank, would mean torture for him.

And of course, Temin _will_ spank that ass. They all know it. Even the boy, Dilan is sure, has no illusion about it.

To complete Temin’s request, Dilan spanked the boy three days in a row, leading to today. On the first day, it was a thorough hand spanking. Dilan’s right hand ached the next day when he had to take a flogger and continue his work. On the third day, he used a belt. Only then, the boy broke and started crying. Dilan was impressed with the boy’s stamina. Didn’t mean he’d be too nice to him today – neither he, not the boy want to taste Temin’s wrath.

Deep inside, Dilan feels bitter. Aching wrists and weeping young men - that’s what he had to get used to after he'd turned forty. He’d better stay in the kitchens and cook for the castle, but no, even that has been denied him. After thirty years as Temin’s cocksucker, five years of surviving in the wild woods surrounding the castle and only five short years of blessed peace at the stove, Dilan hoped he’d be allowed to stay away from the main scene of the castle – but no, no such luck.

Dilan pours all his frustration, all his leftover pain of the years spent at Temin’s feet into his strikes. The boy is not at fault here, and still, Dilan hates him. Hates him so much! He is still young, still beautiful. He still gets to live in the majestic white hall with high ceilings, full of marble statues and drawings. He is still needed by the God.

Damn it, the boy still has his cock and balls intact. He’s not even caged – that makes Dilan’s rage only more potent. And what if he makes the boy suffer just a little bit more than absolutely necessary? If Temin calls him out on it, well, then, maybe, the next second Dilan will wake up somewhere else and learn that his life in the God’s domain was nothing but a dream.

The boy is wiggling over Dilan’s lap, and it’s ridiculous how much Dilan wants to feel something there. He finds the boy’s butt unfairly attractive, especially right now – deeply red with notes of violet. He used to play like that with other men who survived the woods – it was weird, and they felt broken because of indulging in the same perverted pleasures as their God did, but hey, who could blame them? They were raised like that. They were raised _for that_. Dilan wants to experience the heat in his loins again. Dilan wants to come down the boy’s throat the way Temin used to come down his own – every week, year after year. He is angry that he can’t. He is angry that his nature was stolen from him. He is mad that after giving up all his nicest years for their God – pleasing Him! - he can’t continue his free life in the forest.

The boy is annoyingly agile today – Dilan is not in the mood for tolerating this. He should’ve restrained the little angel – the boy has been so good the first three days that Dilan expected him to make it through the preparations just so. It was naïve of him. In any case, the discipline session will be over soon – the clock says Temin is going to call the boy to his chambers in five minutes. Dilan doubles his vigour, making the boy scream and thrash under his punishing hold.

Finally, the boy crawls into Temin’s doors. A few minutes pass. No one calls out for him, for Dilan, and he breathes out a sigh of relief: he didn’t fuck it up today either. He doesn’t want to know what happens to overseers who can’t do their job properly. He’s only fifty, for Temin’s sake!

Dilan sits down on a bank in front of Temin’s chambers – at least, as an overseer, he is allowed to sit on the furniture and not only kneel on the floor or pillows. That’s merciful – he doesn’t feel too bad yet, but he doesn’t feel young anymore.

For now, Dilan is content to sit and wait.

His thoughts scatter around like flies as it always happens when he comes here. He remembers the indescribable hours of agony spent at Temin’s feet, his throat filled to the brim and tears staining his eyes. He suddenly remembers how he was thankful for being caged – and what a temptation it was to be left free. He remembers his own spankings before his meetings with his cruel God – and was it a horror. Maybe, Dilan’s at the time fresh ass had looked nice to Temin, all reddened up.

With horror, Dilan realises that he pities the young man he's just delivered to Temin and is now waiting for. Not just that: he feels guilty for causing the boy undue struggle. Both their lives are unfair, who is Dilan to make it worse?

The real question is, what can Dilan do now when it's too late? Yet, at the same time, is it, really? He is not supposed to do anything but take care of the boy’s wounds afterwards – but no one is going to know if Dilan takes his time with it. He is supposed to take care of his God’s livestock, isn’t he?

Dilan smirks. No one else’s ass is going to be taken care of as nicely as his boy’s!

He nods to himself. It’s decided, then. The boys need something to fuel them once they are thrown out of the palace and into the wilderness. The thirtieth birthday comes quickly.

Dilan sits up and starts conjuring his plan of bringing the boy back to life after he exits through these heavy oaken doors. When Temin has enough of the boy, Dilan is going to be ready.

He won't fail anymore.


	3. Boys 3, 4 and 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Temin has a busy night: he has to service three boys in turns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears!
> 
> Another dark chapter is out there! It elaborates on the world where Temin and the boys live, a little. And, of course, there are tortures and other dark stuff.  
Be cautious!

The boy in front of him has a very pretty ass. So compact, small even. Even the gruelling physical exercise routine every boy kept in the palace is required to adhere to was unable to give this boy a bubble butt – but Temin is actually grateful for that, now. It makes the boy look more fragile. More breakable. In Temin’s eyes, it’s a big plus.

Thinking of what awaits the boy so very soon makes Temin almost giddy with anticipation.

He looks at the bound body in front of him attentively, allows himself a few moments of pure admiration. He rarely stops for this – but today it feels like a must.

So Temin takes his time.

For the umpteenth time, this little pale ass is going to accept so much pain a lesser man would’ve broken long ago. But this boy – he comes to Temin’s chambers every month, to be tortured and played with – and he is still sane and resilient.

These tender ass cheeks get bruised so easily – they are going to turn violet by the middle of the session, before changing their colour to black and blue a little after the spanking is over.

What Temin especially loves about the boy is how his little cock never fails to get hard during preparations for the big spanking. It’s so small – even in proportion to the boy’s petite frame. Temin loves imagining how he’s going to cut it off when the boy turns 35, along with his testicles. He’ll heal the wounds and make what’s left on the boy’s crotch look pretty – just one little nub on otherwise completely smooth skin, for him to relieve himself while he is still a mortal. Poor soul, he’s going to cry so hard when it happens. After all they have to go through under Temin’s rule, some boys don’t really care about being neutered, it just falls into the great scheme of things. But this one – Temin feels like he’s going to go into shock and maybe even lose his ability to speak for a while. That’s a pity, of course: Temin likes the boy’s voice. He is going to miss it while the boy comes back to himself again.

Temin thinks he’s going to make the boy into one of his chambermaids – also, give him wings and teach him how to turn into a bird. Temin hopes the boy is going to choose a pretty bird with sad, lovely songs as his avatar – just as sad and lovely as his cries on the spanking table are.

The boy, meanwhile, is trying to calm himself, breathing in and out in a relaxing pattern. He’s so determined and focused on his task – and Temin loves him all the more for that.

“It’s time,” – Temin announces.

For all his attempts to stay level-headed, the boy on the table flinches so hard his leather-and-metal restraints rattle against the metal of the table loudly. There’s a special sturdy pillow under the boy’s hips to elevate his pelvis conveniently – and so that the cold surface doesn’t distract him too much from Temin’s game.

The boy’s tiny hard cock is trapped between the pillow and his body, leaking profusely. Temin pinches its tip, and the boy jerks and cries out, making Temin smile behind his back.

“What do we have here?” – marvels Temin aloud. He’s not always vocal with his boys, but this one and some others benefit from hearing him talk. It makes them feel less alone, it seems, which is a big deal in Temin’s monumental palace.

The boy takes the hint and freezes in place, expecting a specific brand of torture to be applied to him.

Temin takes the little cube of ice he’d prepared exactly for this purpose and holds it against the little cock until it goes down (it doesn’t take long at all). The boy hisses, shivers and strains in his bindings but otherwise, doesn’t complain.

Then, Temin shows the boy a teeny-tiny chastity cage – his breath hitches in his throat, and Temin would swear his cock would’ve twitched if not for the ice. The metal contraption is so intricately made that it can be considered a piece of art. The cage is a little smaller than the penis itself in its not-iced state. To make it more interesting, the cage has subtle ridges on the inside that are going to hurt the boy so well when the arousal makes his little cock swell again. A smith from Temin’s Temple in the human realm makes those – for all the boys there and also for the boys taken into Temin’s realm. Temin always finds it ironic that every new Temple smith always starts his career with caging his own cock – and the smiths are not allowed to make themselves another device for another five years.

Temin doesn’t hurry – he enjoys holding the boy’s most intimate parts in his hands, admiring them – and then hiding them into the pretty cage.

Finally, Temin steps away from the table to admire his handiwork. The boy looks delicious: pretty, immobilised, surrendered. After he’d watched his fill, Temin starts rummaging through his many spanking supplies. Even a tough little ass like that can’t endure all of Temin’s implements at once – not even a very small part of them!

Temin sighs in exasperation. He tried to torture his demons – they can take as many strokes as Temin doles out, and they suffer greatly from that… But it’s not the same. The demons all have chosen to be here – while neither of the boys was given any alternative. As soon as their parents or caretakers bring a boy to Temin’s sanctuary in the woods, his destiny is decided. Whether it’s because the father doesn’t have money to feed another mouth or because the mother is so conscious of the destiny of the world she lives in to make a sacrifice for its future, doesn’t really matter for Temin. The sacrifice can’t be taken back (for some people tried and still try to steal their child from the Temple). There will be only one more choice Temin will make for the new boys when he comes to his sanctuary in the human world: some of the boys would have to stay at the Temple to serve as Temin’s priests and monks, and some will follow Temin back to his home. To his palace.

Temin is so glad he chose to take this boy home: he’s a true gem of his year’s harvest. But enough of retrospection: it won’t do to make his sweet guest wait any longer.

On the table, the boy feels the shift in the air and breathes out slowly, steeling himself. He looks as ready as they get. Placid even. That’s not for long, of course. By the end of the first half-hour, he’ll be sobbing against the unforgiving metal surface. By the end of his hour here, the boy is going to be a mess.

Temin licks his lips. He could stand here and watch for hours.

He has to start though. His night it not as long as he wants it to be. He needs to meet two other boys today as well…

...

The boy is really, really lovely. He never said a word, as he was taught not to in Temin’s presence. But he cried, and wept, and shouted, and screamed – all for Temin. He’s such a precious little boy, Temin will have to make sure he wants to stay with Temin in his realm when he turns one hundred years old.

His ass, fiery red with specks of dark blue, is quivering in pain. Temin can’t resist putting his palms on it and tugging on the boy’s ass cheeks a little. The agonizing cry he gets is so worth it. Temin strokes the boy’s back, pets his hair. He’s so deep in his suffering he doesn’t even notice how tender Temin is to him, how much he’d prefer to take the boy to his bed and hug him to his chest. But he can’t; not when everything this boy could’ve sacrificed today had, indeed, been sacrificed.

Temin has responsibilities. This boy’s grandfather didn’t bring his tenth grandchild to the Temple in the woods just so: that old man and all others who worship Temin in the other realm believe that Temin will treat their gifts fairly and fulfil his mission of keeping the evils of the human world at bay.

That’s exactly why Temin is calling for the boy’s overseer now to take him to his bed and to tend to him.

The tiny boy with the lovely bottom had paid his due for today, but others hadn’t yet.

Temin closes his eyes and commands to bring the next boy to the room.

* * *

This one is heavily chained and even muzzled. His bottom is dark red already – the overseer had done a good job preparing Temin’s next sacrifice.

A flurry of names flies through Temin’s head at the sight of the boy trying to look his overseer in the eyes one last time – he’s the only one in Temin’s chambers the boy knows what to make of. The chained boy is brought to Temin once a year – and Temin rapes him mercilessly.

Temin would maybe call him Charley or Semar. Or Wilbor, that name sounds good, too…

Temin shakes his head. He can’t name the boys he tortures. That simply won’t do. Even he is not that vile.

Truthfully, Temin would prefer to only spank his boys. Not this – this is so much worse. But he knows exactly how much “costs” the war at the far sea that he wants to prevent – and so the next boy is going to be raped, too.

If only humans would think for themselves more willingly than make sacrifices…

Temin positions the boy across the stack of pillows at the edge of his massive oak bed, and steps closer. This way, the boy’s well-spanked hole lines up perfectly with Temin’s massive cock. The boy has been prepared well – Temin knows for certain that some massive plug has left his channel only right before the overseer brought him inside Temin’s chamber. Anyway, they all know that no toy will help: Temin’s cock is always going to be too much. If some boy’s hole were enough to accept Temin’s whole fist without struggle, his cock would grow larger than his fist. That’s the way of things.

The chains rattle when the boy on the bed moves around a little, looking for some modicum of comfort. Temin has to quench any pity he feels: it’s not the time.

It’s still better than gutting five-year-old boys on a stony altar in his Temple, better than watching their blood fill a small pool under the altar’s podium while their lifeless bodies grow cold, assures Temin himself. What he does now is still better than that. He doesn’t kill anyone. He doesn’t make them suffer more than they are able to take: this is why he needs so many at once, this is why he needs his acolytes in the human realm to self-torture, too.

A rare, weird night is it. Why does Temin have this fight with himself all over again?

He can’t be distracted. He has things to do.

Temin sheathes his giant cock in the boy’s waiting hole in one smooth motion, and the boy’s scream is music to his ears. However much he hates the practice, he can’t help but love witnessing the boys’ pain, drinking in their anguish.

He’s wired like that, and even a God can’t go against their predestination.

* * *

The third boy is brought to him for the first time.

He looks like an Alan. Or a Tiberius, thinks Temin before he can stop himself.

The boy was brought here unbound, but with his cock safely locked away. There’s even a little plug in the boy’s urethra – and Temin can imagine just how annoyed the boy must have been because of this little addition. He’ll have to get used to the plugs and catheters, though: not once will he be able to go to the toilet without the help of his caretaker or overseer until he turns thirty and will be driven out of the palace and into the magic forest surrounding it.

This boy is a pleasure to meet: despite being groomed as Temin’s slave, he puts up resistance and fights his advances. But, as soon as he gets the feeling he’s not going to win (not that he consciously sought to, of course), the boy goes limp in Temin’s arms and allows Temin to manhandle him however he wants. Weirdly, it doesn’t even feel like rape to Temin, because the boy adjusts to his girth quickly and starts a litany of “thank you-s” and “please-s”, thoroughly enjoying his fucking. It’s the first time in decades when Temin’s orgasm feels real: he comes, slamming his oversized cock into the boy’s puffy hole, and the boy just takes it all, sighing sweetly. He looks up at Temin through his unruly auburn curls with so much adoration that Temin knows for sure he’ll have to torture this boy unlike any other to make his life here miserable enough to consider it a sacrifice.

Deep down though, Temin knows he won’t break him, not in the twelve years to come, not after. And even when he’s going to take his ceremonial knife to sever the boy’s member, the boy will smile at him and say “Please”.

It makes it all the worse because it means the boy will have to be only brought to Temin once in five years or so – because only the longing for Temin he will feel undoubtedly, could equate to what the other boys experience in Temin’s chambers.

But then, after this boy turns one hundred years old, he will certainly stay with Temin and be the sweetest of his demons. He will be cherished and praised. Temin will make him responsible for his Temple in the human world: for corralling the young acolytes, for teaching them the true love to their God.

Now though, Temin can only watch the boy being taken away from him and keep his emotions in check. He wants to go after the boy; he wants to maybe kill some other occupants of the palace not to have to do anything to that particular boy who can smile so warmly at Temin while being tortured. As if he’d found a place where he belongs…

Temin wants the boy for himself, now, but he can’t, and it drives him mad. One fit of anger on Temin’s side would undo all the boys’ hard work – and he can’t let it happen. Ha. Seems like it’s Temin’s time to do the breathing exercises.

Temin sits down on the floor and puts his head in his hands. He has five minutes until a demon will announce the start of a new day.

Until then, he’s going stay where he is and he is going to mourn.

A fitting pastime for the great God he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think of Temin now!


	4. Interlude 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet cute: a fellow Goddess pays Temin a little visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I greet you heartily again!
> 
> Let's ride my angst train together!

She leans at the far wall of his room – flourishing, gorgeous, deadly. Her full breasts are tenting the front of her long, closed-off dress. It’s forest-green, and its fabric is quite sturdy, yet, it flows around her when she moves like the lightest silks. Her hips are broad and wavy; the cloth hiding her springy behind seems to be rippling when she moves. In Temin’s eyes, the design of her clothing looks like a failed attempt at modesty with what nature has given to her.

She could even be considered pretty if not for the steely glint of her big brown eyes. She has short hair, lush and heavy, the curls so tight Temin thinks there’s no way he’d be able to straighten them if he tugged on the strands – they’d bounce right back.

For some time, they simply watch each other.

Inwardly, Temin wants to shout at her, wants to make her leave before she pours her liquid venom into his ears. He wants her gone from his realm so bad; he can barely keep his composure in check. He’d beg her to go if she’d only listen to it. He’d fall to his knees right this instant if it was a way to make her return to her own palace in her own world just a little bit sooner.

But, unfortunately, the only way to get rid of this mighty woman is to listen to what she has to say. So listen he will.

This very second, Ardelean, the Goddess of Family, smiles at Temin predatorily and licks his lips. As if she’s just read his thoughts.

Her expression makes goosebumps rise on Temin’s uncovered arms. Better to get it over with – and he has to greet her first, as the tradition requires.

Temin is tempted to call his guest Arda, just to make her hiss upon hearing a nickname he invented for her. He doesn’t. He’s not a fool. Not anymore, at least, as he prefers to think.

Temin schools his features into appropriateness and starts:

“What brings you here, o proud Ardelean, the Goddess of Trust, and Motherhood, and Hearth?”

Temin hopes that his voice doesn’t waver. Hopes that he doesn’t show his fear as obviously as it feels he does.

She laughs at him. Good-naturedly, if her laugh can be called that at all.

Temin stands with his head held high and his shoulders drawn back. It’s his world, his palace, his domain. She has no power over him here…

Except that she does. He is still caught under her spell. He is still afraid that she’d outsmart him somehow and hurt him.

He knows he deserves to be hurt, he does – but, oh, how much he doesn’t want this to happen.

Ardelean stops giggling and steps away from the wall. She seems taller than Temin, thanks to her mop of curls. At that… She seems stronger, and more resilient, and, on the whole, - more. More than Temin will ever achieve to be.

Her prolonged silence doesn’t help Temin’s nerves to settle in the least.

At last, she makes a step towards him and talks.

“Are you still scared of me, sweet boy?” – Arda coos at Temin, feigning adoration.

Her eyes are like molten lava, like fumed oak, like deep forest lakes with muddy water. She draws him in, challenges him. Requires him to submit to her will.

Temin doesn’t reply.

He is. They both know he is.

“You don’t need to worry, Temin. I come unarmed. When even do I come armed, huh? Not like I need bows or swords to achieve what I desire. As if I even have to worry about something as silly as that.”

The last line is so full of disdain that Temin unconsciously takes a half-step back. He doesn’t think anymore, doesn’t struggle; he just endures. He knows he won’t win.

“I have a very simple, common request to you. It’ll cost you nothing to humour me this time, o handsome God. I won’t take long. You’ll grant my wish, and I will go away. Then, as soon as it’s safe again, you can play with your toys to calm yourself how much you want.”

Temin can feel how his demons gather around this room, silent and unseen by Arda. He knows they’d attack her here where she really is more vulnerable than Temin rather than watch their Lord be humiliated again. Temin knows they’d kill her if he so wished. He’d lose two-thirds of his forces but she’d leave him alone for eternity… It’s tempting. He sometimes feels like it’s a pity that his demons are too well-trained to disobey him and won’t make a move on Arda on their own accord. He wouldn’t kill the transgressors who’d manage to stay alive. They’d just have to suffer daily for the rest of their existence for their boldness, but he knows they’d taken their penance with gratitude.

The only thing is – this meagre Universe needs a Goddess of Family so it’d be born the same second Arda had met her untimely end. Who knows who this new person would be? It may even be a God this time around, who knows. Not even Temin can predict what these humans think they need right now, after all.

Ardelean is familiar, and thus – less dangerous as any of her possible heirs.

Temin allows himself to smile a little. He knows it looks forced but it’s better than letting his face form a long mask of uncertainty.

“You know I will always hear you out, Ardelean. But I won’t promise I’ll give you anything until you tell me what you aim at.”

“Such a smooth talker, - and now Arda’s voice is all business, even if she can’t hide a hint of repulsion. – I won’t make you wait, then. I want your boys, the ones you’ve sent to die in your monster-infested forests. I want to take them to my realm and use them the way I see fit.”

“And that’s all? Oh, really?” – Temin’s voice rises in pitch.

She smiles a disbelieving half-smile and even raises one bushy brow at his outburst. Her silly boytoy allowed himself a little rebellion? What a day!

Temin sees red.

“Do you really think I’d give you any of them? The forest is the only place I can leave them alone. Let them live. You know first-hand I wouldn’t have been able to let them roam the forest free if not for its deadly dangers!” – he spits out.

She only smirks mockingly, her lower lip caught in her pearly teeth.

That’s when she strides closer and stands right in front of him, not bothering to consider his boundaries or personal space. She leans in, and smiles, and just watches him tremble for a few heartbeats.

This is when Temin truly loses it. If he were a dog, he’d have his ears flopped against his head and his tail between his legs. As it is, he just freezes completely, only able to look into her eyes and listen to her melodic voice.

“You’ll give them to me, you know that, right? I need boys who’d be able to stay at my place for longer than a year or two and not go mad. Your boys are just what I seek for – ready to be abused, ready to be treated poorly, made to endure all their lives. It’s only your fault they exist and draw me in. Because you know what, Temin? If it were me, I’d still be killing little boys at the altar – and maybe little girls, too, there’s no difference for me. Pity, it’s not for me. I’m just a peaceful Goddess, aren’t I? Of the fireplaces in human homes, no less!”

She starts sounding slightly hysterical.

Temin is overthrown by the fury in her words. Why would she be this… angry?

His imagination helpfully supplies Temin with pictures of Ardelean’s Temple on the other side of the world. Across seven seas it lies, cut out from pink marble and adorned with thick, curvy lianas and juicy vines. There are women who choose men to play with for the night, and the queue to their dimly lit chambers never thins. There are rooms for orphans who look for new parents or seek refuge under the Goddess’ palm. And there’s low-thrumming music, and kitchens, and old crones who’d give you advice, and even stalls to bring your old pets to die in care and satiety.

But he also sees the other place – Ardelean’s own realm. Her real home. There he can remember many women, too, but also - men.

Ardelean does teach her every new future demoness the same way as Temin does – mercilessly and determinedly. But she does take no kids in, only women in their thirties. The ones who served her in their thyme-smelling bedrooms at the Temple for enough years; the ones who bedded so many men – men that wished to forget their wives for a night without the need to pay for it – only Arda could count their number.

No one knew, but those women weren’t just orphans who ended up Ardelean’s priestesses – the opposite. Their intricate masks were no mere decoration – they were their disguise, shield and armour. These were the women who left their husbands, either by simply running away or by disappearing after taking their lives first. These tired, sinful, desperate women came to the Goddess of Family’s sanctuary to seek redemption. They found what they wished for, and so much more. The most faithful ones Ardelean would invite to her world – and offer them Power over those they hated.

Temin always felt it was petty and weird – but who was he to judge?

Ardelean hasn’t finished her speech while Temin's head was in the clouds.

“Do you even know what I feel through my acolytes every single moment of time? Do you even know what horrors do my future demonesses go through before they have enough faith to find me?! It’s them! Your men! Your headless, thirsty pigs with foul water for brains!”

Temin can’t breathe for the hatred in her voice. Not that he’d die without air too easily, but it’s still unsettling. He feels the need to contradict her but he knows what she says is true. He knows he deserves her wrath, deserves her indignation. It’s him who fuels the human males’ rage with his own. It’s Temin’s fault men start wars. He would’ve changed that. If he could.

Same as Ardelean, Temin is just a prisoner of his position in the pantheon.

She responds to what people are and moulds herself after the shape they require from her.

He responds to how people act and what kinds of cruelty they fancy.

For this is the Gods and Goddesses’ nature – to follow the humans’ paths, starting from the point in time when they get separated from the absolute unconscious of this Universe’s human race and until they perish.

And yet, Temin is sure, they do influence their charges, too, - if not more, than certainly not less than they do influence their pantheon of four. He still hopes he’s going to master the art of wielding his powers to change humans for the better one day.

He would tell Ardelean that in the last century there was only one big war. That the robbers and mercenaries in the woods of his country are mostly extinct. That… Whatever he says, he knows she won’t care.

Despite the lack of wars, men are still vile pigs, just as she’s described them. And only the other member of their circle, Death, is able to change them.

But not Temin’s men. No, his are boys, not men – they only get to try to be men for five years, and then he takes all their manliness from them.

Ardelean, the most beautiful person he saw, is still shouting at him. Tear tracks stain her full cheeks. The wetness doesn’t diminish the otherworldly glow of her insanity.

Temin doesn’t hear or understand her words anymore.

He wishes she’d listen to him instead.

For what it’s worth, Temin would’ve given himself over to Arda, would’ve given up everything if it meant he’d got to change things for her.

He can’t. He knows she’s too far gone to be saved.

Temin closes his eyes and makes himself take a breath.

Temin says: “Go to my forest, seek the living souls out. Take those of them who are willing to go with you, no more than twenty, – but only after you tell them in every sordid detail what awaits them in your palace. Then, leave immediately. I wish neither to see you nor to hear from you for another fifty years.”

Everything said, Temin throws off her nets, opens his eyes and stands up tall. It’s his place, his kingdom. He will keep guard. Any of his “forest” boys that have doubts won’t be able to follow Ardelean to her realm.

Temin wonders: if he was offered such a choice, would he choose to be abused daily but also kissed better afterwards, or would he decide that to expect only torture and receive what he expects is fairer?

As fifty years prior, Temin has no answer to that.

Let him see what he thinks when another fifty years go by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of Ardelean?  
And thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Please, leave comments and kudos if you liked my work!


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